


Victorious Secret

by LaBelladoneX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gambling, Gay Ron - because I can!, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Room of Requirement, Spells & Enchantments, Tinsel, Veritaserum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 10:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelladoneX/pseuds/LaBelladoneX
Summary: Place your bets! When will Malfoy and Granger stop verbally sparring and throw themselves at each other? And who will get the last word? Draco decides to teach Hermione a lesson about magic but they both end up learning something meaningful.Written for Strictly Dramione’s Yuletide Magic 2018 and based on the prompt - “It’s probably the only time you'll ever hear the words ‘wow, that’s a big one’, Malfoy.”





	Victorious Secret

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to TheOtterAndTheDragon who stepped up at the last minute and beta'd my attempt at Christmas smut (again!), to PartyLines for the very pretty aesthetic, and to coyg-81 whose stamp of approval is much needed always.

###  **_“Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.”_** ** _  
_****_William Shakespeare_**

Hermione shoved her copy of  _ Home Lives and Social Habits of British and Irish Muggles _ by Quinton Q. Quintrell into her satchel, glaring at the Slytherin bastard across the table. 

The atmosphere in the Muggle Studies classroom crackled with tension; several students frantically packed away their own books, cautiously watching the simmering Gryffindor as she reached boiling point. Even her trademark hair was channelling its inner Medusa, sparking to life and rising up in support of her furious expression.

Their barely qualified professor also made a dive for the door, stamping on Neville’s left foot in a rather obvious attempt to escape the wrath of the petite witch. Someone else could deal with her;  _ he  _ was planning an afternoon with a cold compress and a pint of eggnog. 

Since returning to Hogwarts for their final year, putting the past behind them all and shaking hands, life was a lot easier for the snakes and lions. Harry and Pansy were now permanently glued at the lips — not to mention Theo and Lavender, who could put pornstars to shame if the rumours were to be believed — but the tension between Hermione and Draco was stronger than ever. A book had been opened by Blaise and Dean on when exactly the stubborn pair would realise they were perfect for each other and join the rest of the shagging student bodies. 

Even Ron was much happier now that he and Greg were ‘out’ but the Harvest Moon deadline he’d bet on had waned and October’s Dying Moon had passed over quietly — thanks to Hermione giving Draco the silent treatment for a few days — leaving his boyfriend down a hefty sum as well. In fact, once November’s Hogsmeade weekend arrived, most of the eighth years — not to mention quite a few professors — were a good few Galleons lighter. 

It was now one week before Christmas and it didn’t look like anyone was going to win the prize pot anytime soon. 

“So, let me get this right; ‘Muggles can’t enjoy life to the fullest due to their lack of magic’.” Hermione spat Draco’s words back at him. “You really think that, do you? Well, let me remind you,  _ Malfoy _ , that not everything has to be done with a  _ flick of your wand _ , you know.”

He didn’t answer, ignoring her mediocre jibe as he slid his quill into its soft sheath. 

“Actually...” Her tone calmed considerably after a moment, instantly alerting the remaining onlookers — who were either too nosey to leave, itching for a good scrap, or still financially invested in the bet — that Malfoy was in serious trouble. “Isn’t one of your hobbies  _ fishing _ , Malfoy? Don’t you sit on your own for hours on end with your  _ rod _ in your hand, waiting for the fish to  _ come?  _ Rather Muggle of you, don’t you think? Not a wand in sight. Just you… and your rod.” 

She picked up her satchel, swinging it over her shoulder, and headed towards the door. 

Draco continued tidying away his books as if she didn’t exist; his Slytherin ability to remain calm and collected on the outside belied the trembling embarrassment pulsing through his veins.  _ Fucking bitch! Can’t she see I’m trying to fucking engage with her?  _

The sadistic audience hung back, anxious to know if Hermione would keep Draco hanging or leave a parting shot. They weren’t disappointed; she turned one final time, the Medusa-like strands of chestnut hair calmly framing her face as she turned back to grin at her nemesis.  

“It’s probably the only time you'll ever hear the words ‘wow, that’s a big one’, Malfoy.”

Hermione smiled to herself as she walked down the corridor, the jeers and laughter fading with every step. She’d won this war of words, but wasn’t stupid enough to think he wouldn’t retaliate. She thought they were beginning to simmer around each other but, maybe, she was mistaken. Pity. So that just left one way to deal with Draco Malfoy — head on.

_ So bring it, prick. _

Draco waited until everyone left the classroom before gently pulling out his quill and rolling it lovingly between his fingers. Oh, he had a perfect way to get back at her. 

Just fucking perfect. 

_ Game on, bitch. _

* * *

 

###  **“The real secret of magic lies in the performance.”** **  
****David Copperfield**

The note flew into the Gryffindor common room shortly after dinner, landing directly on the open book Hermione was currently engrossed in. She frowned in annoyance at the inconvenience of having to tear herself away from the pivotal moment — would Sebastian survive the frozen ice plains to reach Persephone before she became an eternal slave to the dashingly handsome but unfortunately demonic Abigor? The fallen angel was just about to ravish the enslaved, albeit very willing, princess…

Hermione tried to ignore the roll of parchment but it kept poking at her until she slammed her book shut — Abigor had just ripped open Persephone’s bodice, revealing her heaving breasts — and grabbed the scroll with a snarl, crunching it in her fist before pulling it open.

 

_ Granger _

_ See how the parchment could make its way to you all on its own? That’s magic, you know. And the fact it kept poking at you until you relented and opened it? Don’t look surprised, of course that’s what happened. It probably interrupted a very important paragraph in Hogwarts - A History, or some equally non-interesting tome.  _

_ Again, magic. _

_ I’m sure I could persuade you to acknowledge just how essential magic is to our way of life, and how helpful certain spells can be at particular times. I honestly feel you haven’t quite grasped the convenience of this wonderful gift, although I am willing to assist you in this matter, despite your generally annoying character.  _

_ I’ll be in the Room of Requirement at 8:30pm. Don’t be late.    _

_ Malfoy _

 

Ten minutes time. 

_ Arsehole!  _ She’d show him. Hermione had survived quite well for the first eleven years of her life without magic, thank you very much. That one time when she blew up her father’s greenhouse didn’t count. Neither did the unfortunate case of her mother’s favourite gin and the sherry trifle — cleaning up Nana sick had most definitely  _ not _ been on her Santa list that year. 

Sighing loudly, Hermione rose from her comfortable armchair and climbed the stairs to the Head Girl’s dormitory, stashing the page-turner under her pillow for… research later on. There was no way she was going to ignore his letter; this was another opportunity to hex his balls off. Or punch his pointy face.

She slipped out of the common room without raising any suspicions; inter-house unity now allowed students to come and go from the towers, dungeon, and basement with ease, meaning Harry was too wrapped up in and around Pansy to notice his best friend walk straight by him. Ron was nowhere to be seen, practically living below sea level these days anyway. 

It only took moments to walk from Gryffindor Tower to the Room of Requirement, leaving Hermione standing in front of the blank wall and considering how to word her request. 

“Draco Mal—”

The door appeared instantly; it was typically ornate — a rich mahogany sheen with gold fittings — so…  _ him _ . Hermione expected it to swing open for her but found herself surprised at its remaining firmly shut. 

She knocked quietly but received no reply. Her second attempt was a bit louder but, again, nothing happened. Thinking for a moment and then muttering ungracefully to herself, she retrieved her wand, casting  _ Alohomora _ at the handle through gritted teeth. Needless to say there was no surprised expression at the creaking open of the door.  _ Smart prick! _

The room inside was dark, outlining indistinct shadows and little else. Hermione blinked several times, her eyesight slowly adjusting to the blackness. 

“I know you’re in here, Malfoy,” she remarked, “so can we just cut the—”

_ “Lumos.” _

The tip of his wand cast a blue light under Draco’s face as he appeared inches away from her, causing Hermione to scream loudly and jump backwards in shock. 

“You… _a_ _ rse!”  _ She exclaimed, her hand clutching her chest. “What the fuck, Malfoy!”

“Why, good evening to you too, Granger,” he grinned. “How nice of you to accept my invitation.”

Hermione’s breathing relaxed following a few deep breaths. “And what exactly do you plan to show me that will make me reconsider my opinions about magic?” She scoffed, automatically placing her hands on her hips. “We could all manage perfectly fine without it, Malfoy. You just choose to be lazy about menial tasks, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” he pretended to ponder, “I just don’t like getting my hands dirty, you see.”

Draco lowered his wand, extinguishing the light from its tip. They were momentarily cast into complete darkness until an  _ Incendio _ caused the fire in the hearth over to Hermione’s right to roar to life, illuminating more of the richly furnished room. Still wearing his cocky smile, Draco pointed his wand towards the sconces around the dark green patterned walls, slowly turning in a circle as the small flames began to flicker. 

“Marvellous, isn’t it?” He mused, “All the magical things one can do… with a wand.”

“Malfoy...” Hermione began, glancing around at the ornate furniture. Near the fireplace she spotted a chesterfield suite in soft cream leather, the large mahogany coffee table in front of it laden with fresh fruit, melted dark chocolate swirling in a glass dish, and a Chilean Merlot breathing at room temperature. Stunned by the sheer elegance of the room, Hermione walked towards the leaded windows, overlooking a lush green expanse of elaborate topiary and flowing fountains. She leaned against the cool panes of glass, momentarily speechless at the beauty of the parkland below. 

Beside her, a richly decorated Christmas tree appeared as Draco continued to illuminate the room. It was easily over eight feet high and tiny toy dragons flew around the balsam fir branches, their little sparks of flame replacing the traditional Muggle sets of one-bulb-never-works Christmas lights. The hanging ornaments were magical too — all swaying or twirling constantly in their Slytherin shades of green and silver. Miniature books also hung from various branches, their pages turning slowly from cover to cover. 

Hermione was stunned. She looked to the other side of the room which was now coming into view, eventually making out the shape of a king-size four-poster bed with heavy curtains also depicting the Slytherin colours, its frame carved with intricate runic designs. It also complemented the dark mahogany theme of the room, standing proud on a large Persian rug woven with the softest wools of cream and dark green. Highly varnished floorboards shone beneath Hermione’s ballet flats, and the packed bookshelves directly in front practically begged for her attention. 

“Where am I?” She breathed, momentarily forgetting her annoyance.

“This is a replica of my bedroom,” Draco replied quietly. “Another highlight of our magical abilities; we can be wherever we want to be at the — what’s that Muggle phrase? — oh, yes, the flick of a switch.”

Another wave of his wand followed; the Merlot poured into two silver goblets and floated over to where they were standing. The drinks hovered in mid-air as Draco placed his wand back in his pocket before taking both goblets in his hand. He proffered one to Hermione, bowing his head slightly as he stared at her intently. 

“Tonight, I’d like to show you the… perks of magic, Granger.” His fingers touched hers as she accepted the drink. “I’m sure, by the end of the evening, you’ll come around to my way of thinking.”

Hermione sipped the Merlot, savouring the taste of the wine. It was different to the label she usually preferred but she relished the feel of the alcohol sliding down her throat. She took another deeper drink, then another. 

“And how exactly do you envisage changing my mind?” She retorted, not sure if she was willing to play his game or not. There was Sebastian to think about, after all. 

“Are you enjoying your wine?” He asked, raising his own goblet to his lips, also drinking deeply. “Interesting taste, don’t you think?”

Hermione stepped back, cursing herself furiously for not thinking ahead. “What’s in it?” She spat. 

“Nothing to worry about… too much,” he replied, grinning from ear to ear. Merlin, he was gorgeous when he relaxed like that. 

Wait…  _ what? _

“What’s in it, Malfoy?” She repeated. She could recognise most potions and poisons when put in juices or water but was still a bit rusty when it came to alcohols. They wouldn’t be researching that particular subject until  _ after  _ Christmas.

_ Damn! _

Draco didn’t answer immediately, his eyes following the movements of her lips as she asked a third time, her hand slightly shaking around the goblet.

“Three drops of Veritaserum in each goblet before the wine poured itself,” he replied. 

“How can I believe you?” Hermione asked, instantly sceptical of his comment. 

“Would you like me to take an oath? Call a third party for an Unbreakable Vow? Another perk of being magical, you see. Or you could just taste my own wine to make sure it has the same flavour. But, then again—” he leaned forward, his breath soft against her cheek “—you could just trust me, Hermione.”

Oh, she’d trust him alright. Ha!

Although, in that moment, Hermione was so rooted to the spot, and captivated by Draco’s intense stare, she’d probably trust him to the ends of the earth. 

“What else have you put into the wine?” She whispered, her heart beating rapidly as he continued to watch her. Had he also moved closer? Or was it just very hot in the room? 

Draco mused for a moment before answering. “Oh, I see,” he remarked, swirling his drink around in his hand casually. “You actually think I’d stoop that low. Really? Well, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I’d say you’re imagining a love potion of some description —  Cupid Crystals, Kissing Concoction, Beguiling Bubbles… maybe Twilight Moonbeams. Or even Amortentia, am I right? Sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but the Veritaserum will prove there is nothing else in the wine… except the truth serum itself. Although, now that you mention it, all those potions are certainly advantages of being magical. Wouldn’t you agree? I mean, Muggles can’t brew tea properly, nevermind a potion to bring you sexual gratification or even… true love.”

He took a step closer as he spoke those two magical words. Hermione could hardly breathe as he reached down to take his wand out of his pocket again, casting a hovering charm on their goblets and sending them back to the coffee table with a perfectly pronounced  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ , winking cheekily at her as he did so. 

“Now, where was I?” Draco playfully asked, walking around to stand just behind Hermione. He let his fingers trace the outline of her face, pushing back soft chestnut curls to reveal her neck to his lips. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply as his warm caress heated her tingling skin. There was no way she could move; even without him casting a spell, she was rooted to the spot. 

“Magic is everything, Hermione,” he murmured, “you need to see it for yourself. I want to show you.” The only sound was a gasp as Draco pulled her tighter against his body. “Would you like me to show you?” 

He must have cast an Entrancing Enchantment on himself at some stage, surely! 

“Y-yes…” she stuttered, the Veritaserum betraying her, “Merlin, yes.”

Draco smirked behind her.  _ “Immobulus.” _

Hermione froze instantly, eyes wide with shock.  _ What…?  _ Draco walked around to face her, smiling warmly at the surprised expression on the witch in front of him. 

“See? You’re my captive now, thanks to  _ my _ magic. I can do whatever I want to you…  _ Hermione.” _

Casting a Locomotion charm, he guided her towards the bed, laying Hermione’s frozen body down gently. Draco settled himself beside her, releasing his original charm but instantly following the counter with a modified  _ Incarcerous.  _

He spoke casually as the astonished witch felt her arms and legs stretch out across the bed until she was shaped like an X. Soft material glided over her wrists and tightened around her ankles. Turning her head, Hermione realised she was being tied to the bed with silver tinsel — not the scratchy Muggle version but something that felt more like silk caressing her wrists. 

“Malfoy… wha-what are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just going to show you how beneficial magic can be, Hermione, that’s all. And don’t forget, we’re both under the influence of the truth serum…”

He let his sentence hang and he stood and walked around to the end of the bed, facing Hermione directly as he casually leaned against one of the ornate posts. 

“I can’t lie to you,” he continued. “Every word I’ll say to you this evening is the truth and from the heart. Do you understand me?”

Hermione licked her hips, a trickle of fear or excitement running through her. She couldn’t tell the difference, nor did she think she wanted to. “Yes, I understand.”

“I’m going to ask you three questions. No matter how much you fight, you’ll find yourself forced to reveal the truth. You already know this so don’t strain yourself trying to stay quiet, alright? To be fair, I’ll let you ask me three questions as well. Providing we’re both satisfied with each other’s answers, I’ll continue my demonstrations of just how useful magic can be. Do we have a deal, Hermione?”

She nodded, taking a moment to calm herself before answering. “Yes, that’s… acceptable.”

“Good,” he waved his wand towards her, gesticulating for her to ask her first question. 

Hermione thought for a moment. “Why am I here… tied up?”

“You embarrassed me in front of the class at the end of Muggle Studies. I wanted to get you back for it. I was going to retaliate publicly but I decided we’ve played around each other long enough. This way I can...  _ punish _ you and still get what I want.”

“What  _ do _ you want?” The question was rushed out in a breathless whisper. 

“You.”

“W-why?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Hermione? You’re feisty, unafraid, relentless… so enthusiastic about life… about everything! You’re the only one that makes me feel. You’re beautiful… perfect. You light up a room; you put everyone before yourself with that Gryffindor courage and selflessness — it melts my heart.” He swallowed before continuing, his heart on his sleeve for her to tear asunder. “And I want to be the one to take care of you. I don’t want to be in love with you from afar anymore, I want… I want to be yours.”

Draco looked down at the floor, biting his lip hard. All he could hear was her breath, heavy and deep. All that bravado and Slytherin — or was it just Malfoy? — cockiness from moments before had all but vanished. 

“So… whatdoyoufeelaboutme?” He added quickly, as if wishing for the inevitable knockback to be over and done with. 

“I think you’re…” Hermione paused, looking for the right words. She took a deep breath, giving into the Veritaserum and letting it answer him. “I feel so much when you’re around me, I don’t know how to deal with it. Our arguments make me feel alive; you challenge me and I love it. You fight with me and I hate it... but I want it too. After living on adrenaline for years, what I feel with you is… passion and… and excitement.”

The words had rushed out but she knew each one was true. 

“Do you want me, Hermione?”

“Yes.”

“Could you love me?”

“I think… maybe... I already do. Yes.”

Draco raised his head, his grey eyes shining with emotion. He was momentarily speechless.

“Is this how you get all the girls to declare their love for you, Draco?” Hermione attempted to break the ice. “Tie them to a replica of your bed with tinsel?”

He laughed, the rare sound echoing around the room. “No, just you. I thought maybe you’d punch me again.”

They were silent for a few moments, staring at each other — Draco still standing at the end of the bed, Hermione held down by glittering duct tape.

“So what happens now?” She pondered playfully. “I’m still not sure I understand the true meaning of magic and I do believe you were just about to show me.”

“Indeed,” he mused, waving his wand in a circular motion to produce a small bunch of white tulips. “Let’s begin.”

“My favourites,” she smiled, following his movements as he returned to sit on the bed beside her. “How did you know I love tulips?”

“I’m not the second best student in the school for nothing,” he replied, pulling a single white tulip from the bunch. “Do you know what white tulips signify?”

He lifted the bud to his nose, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes. 

“Sincerity,” Hermione replied. “And forgiveness, I think.”

“You’re right,” Draco nodded, sliding the flower across her cheek tenderly. “I’m sincere in asking for your forgiveness. For everything. I’m sure I don’t have to explain—”

“Draco,” she interrupted, “you don’t need to ask for my forgiveness. It was given a long time ago, and I don’t doubt your sincerity. I’m just slightly concerned about being tied to a replica of your bed with tinsel though.”

He laughed, whispering  _ Colovaria _ as he watched all the white petals change to a deep red colour.

“As for the colour red...” he continued, looking at the flowers in his hand, “These are the flowers I really want to give you. Red tulips, for my undying love; for the passion I feel for you, Hermione. For the love I’ve felt for some time.”

Hermione could feel his emotions trying to break through with every word. She ached to touch him, to feel his fingers on her skin. She was already wet; from the moment he secured her arms and legs to the bed, she knew what was coming. 

And she really hoped it would be both of them. 

He traced the bud along her face, from forehead to chin. Hermione closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and sighing so the petals trembled against her lips. 

“I’ll present you with a red tulip every morning, until the day I die,” he promised. “Again, a simple  _ Orchideous  _ will help me prove my love to you daily.”

“What if I die first?”

“I’ll place one on your grave until I join you beyond The Veil.”

“You have this all worked out, Draco Malfoy,” Hermione laughed. “And who knew you had a romantic side?”

“Romantic, sensual… and very, very sexual,” he countered, leaning down to kiss her for the first time. It was tender, gentle, so beautifully soft. Hermione closed her eyes, savouring the taste and feel of Draco’s lips against hers. They moved harmoniously, as if they were made to kiss only each other. All too soon he pulled away. 

“Please untie me, Draco,” she pleaded, “I want to touch you.”

With a click of his fingers the flowers disappeared — except for the single red tulip now placed on the pillow beside Hermione’s head. Draco stood up and walked back around to the end of the bed, taking up the same position again. 

“The pupil does not touch the instructor, Miss Granger,” he teased, pointing his wand at each bedpost in turn. The tinsel unwound itself — much to Hermione’s relief — but she suddenly found herself floating again, thanks to a muttered feather-light charm which was followed by  _ Carpe Retractum _ . She floated weightlessly towards Draco and he gathered the bonds at her wrists, guiding her towards the fireplace. 

“You’re loving this,” she laughed, “I’m like your own personal balloon.”

“I never wanted to shag a balloon.”

Hermione couldn’t answer; she was too busy concentrating on keeping her thighs firmly locked in place. 

She remained floating in mid-air as Draco casually stood in front of the leather couch, pulling his tie open and undoing the first few buttons of his school shirt. He then took his time removing his cufflinks and placing them on the coffee table beside the wine and food. Designer dragonhide boots were next, his belt, socks, and tie joining them on the floor. Finally, he pulled the shirt from his waistband and sat down, twirling his wand through slim fingers as he got comfortable. 

“Are you going to tell me what you have planned?” Hermione mused, still floating in front of the fire with silver tinsel trailing from her wrists and ankles. 

“I’m going to play for a while,” Draco replied airily, “because I can.  _ Multicorfors.” _

Hermione’s uniform instantly changed from her Gryffindor colours to those of its rival house. 

“I always imagined having you in my colours.” He licked his lips hungrily, “You look delectable.”

“Are you going to let me down anytime soon?”

“No, I have something planned for you so you’ll just have to... hang around a bit longer.”

“Oh, sweet Merlin, you didn’t just say that!”

“Yeah, I did. Now, enough. I’ve to show you how beneficial magic can be. Already, you’re in my colours but I’d rather…”

Another flick of his wand and Hermione’s tie was unraveled as her hair was braided in a French plait and tied with the currently green and silver material. Then — painstakingly slowly — Draco flicked open each of her shirt’s buttons, letting the fabric fall to either side of her body.

Hermione’s bra was dainty — balconette in design with lilac lace complementing her creamy skin tone. Draco could only whisper how beautiful she looked, his fingers itching to caress, to feel…

“You want to touch me,” she remarked. “Why don’t you?”

He took a deep breath. “I will, eventually. Right now, you’re only going to feel the magic from my wand — no, not  _ that _ one!” He laughed at her raised eyebrow. “Hilarious.”

Casting  _ Evanesco _ at her feet, Draco vanished her shoes and socks, rolling his eyes at her painted red and gold toenails. Another _ Colovaria  _ changed them to green and silver quickly. 

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, only to hear him whisper  _ Langlock  _ and discover her tongue now firmly stuck to the roof of her mouth. 

“Are you going to argue with me, Hermione?” Draco teased. “Because, if you do, I may have to do this…”

A light stinging hex landed on her arse, causing her to moan loudly and squirm in mid-air. Her eyes widened with desire, the hex altered to feel like a strong hand on bare skin. 

“Maybe you’d like me to do that again, hmm?”

She could only moan in reply, closing her eyes to pretend she wasn’t turned on by the tingling pulsing through her skin. He cast multiple hexes, removing more items of clothing in between — her skirt, the open blouse, that dainty bra — until all Hermione was left wearing was her matching hipster underwear. 

“May I?” Draco asked, catching the tip of his wand underneath the lilac cotton and pulling slightly.

Hermione nodded, gasping heavily when he removed the sticking spell on her mouth. 

Another flourish produced a fresh glass which he filled with cool water from the tip of his wand. Hermione’s body was then tilted forward so she could drink from the hovering glass and watch as it refilled itself, allowing her to drink deeply again. 

“Aguamenti, Mobilicorpus, a refilling charm… see what you could be missing if you insisted on always doing things the Muggle way? Look at us, I can sit here and practically shag you without moving.”

“Like you said,” Hermione replied quickly, “you don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

Draco was taken aback. “I didn’t mean it like that, believe me! I am aching to touch you, Hermione, to kiss that smooth skin, suck those juicy breasts…” He closed his eyes, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth. “I want to bury myself inside you and get lost.”

“Why don’t you, Draco?” She breathed. “Please!”

“All in good time,” he answered, reaching forward to pick up his goblet of wine. “I still have a few spells to try. For instance…”

The remaining water in Hermione’s glass formed into a small cube and floated towards her. She was suddenly flipped over so she was facing another cream and dark green rug in front of the fireplace, the braid he’d charmed falling down beside her neck. As the cube began to slide along her spine from her exposed neck towards her arse, Draco whispered  _ Glacius _ , the water automatically reaching freezing temperatures. Hermione cried out as her skin broke out into goosebumps, her body shivering with the icy sensations. 

He remained seated on the couch, sipping his wine, dying to touch her, to taste her. But he was determined to let her experience how magical sex could be this way.

Hermione moaned as the melting ice cube sent droplets of water sliding from her body to the floor below. She was alight with need for his fingers, his lips… any part of him. What Draco was doing to her was torture, but it was delicious. 

“I could do all of that again with candle wax, you know. Or a hot-air charm on places that would have you screaming. But I’ve dreamed of this bit for too long,” he commented. “ _ Accio _ Hermione.”

She was turned back over, floating towards him, eyes wide as he eventually physically touched her, parting her legs to either side of his head as she kept moving forward until her pussy was mere inches from his face. With a slice, his wand cut her hipsters in two, revealing her neatly trimmed mound and swollen lips. He inhaled deeply, allowing his wine to return to the coffee table as he settled back on the couch, stretching his arms along the smooth leather. 

His magic brought her directly to his lips and he kissed her softly at first, relishing her cries of pure need. She was soaking, nectar flowing across the tops of her thighs as his kisses became deeper, his tongue lapping at her skin. She was squirming around his head, crying out with desire flowing through her body, her veins… everywhere. 

“Draco…” her voice was almost hoarse with need, “can I…”

“No.”

She heard him cast the Supersensory Charm on himself, modifying it in some way that she didn’t or couldn’t understand in that moment. All Hermione could feel was the pulse of her orgasm rising through her pores, screaming for release. 

For all the time Draco toyed with Hermione and stripped her down, he was painfully hard but anxious to prove his point about magical sex. Now, thanks to his new spell, he’d feel her orgasm and — once he’d taught her the incantation — she’d feel him coming as well. They could experience sex together, in every way. The thought of coming simultaneously with Hermione was nearly driving him wild. 

He almost choked trying to spell away his own clothes, his excitement nearly too much. It took two attempts at  _ Evanesco _ for him to disrobe, his erection pointing towards Hermione’s arse as she still hovered in front of him, panting and pawing at her breasts as she obediently waited — albeit with growing frustration — for his instruction. 

Draco wrapped his hand around his throbbing erection, running his fingers over the pulsing member, briefly imagining it buried within Hermione’s perfect body. 

“Come, Hermione, let me feel you…” He blew gently on her clit, igniting the fire within her and bringing her over the edge. She writhed in mid-air, crying out as he lapped up her orgasm, coming all over his hand and stomach at the same time. It felt like long minutes passed before Draco stood up, releasing all his magical spells from Hermione and taking her in his arms. 

He carried her for the first time, holding her close to his body, skin welcoming skin. The bedcovers folded back for him as he approached, allowing Draco to gently lower his witch down into the comfortable layers. Summoning his wand, he cast a  _ Scourgify _ over them both before climbing in beside Hermione and taking her in his arms. 

“I meant what I said,” he whispered, “I love you, Hermione.”

She turned in his embrace, lying across his smooth chest and gazing up into his cool grey eyes. 

“And I also meant what  _ I _ said, Draco,” she replied. “The Veritaserum won’t have worn off yet so you know I’m speaking the truth. We have something here; I want it because I want you—” she leaned up to kiss him deeply, her tongue swirling around his as they began the quick ascent to round two “—I love you.”

“What’s the book at now? Do you know?”

“Well, Ron was complaining that the deadline he’d bet on has come and gone. I think the only ones left in the race are Dean, Luna, and Madame Pomfrey. I’d like to see Luna win. She said she’d donate some of the money to various charities—”

“Wait, how do you know this?”

It was Hermione’s turn to smirk. “Disillusionment charm, Draco,” she quipped. “Comes in very handy sometimes.”

He laughed loudly, rolling her over and smiling warmly at her mischievous expression.

“Are you saying magic has its uses, Miss Granger?”

“On the contrary, I’m just being practical. As Head Girl, I must be aware of all that is going on in the school — illegal gambling included.”

“And when did Luna bet we’d fall into each other’s arms?”

“Christmas Day, 5:06pm.”

“That precise, huh?”

“That’s Luna for you.”

“Well, I suppose we could manage that,” he commented, failing miserably at hiding his sudden shyness, “only if you want to.”

“Oh, I want to, Draco,” Hermione replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. She traced his waiting lips with her own, whispering against his breath. “I want to do so many things, I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up with me this Christmas.”

“Luckily for you, I’m really good at brewing Invigoration Draughts,” he remarked. “Another perk of magic, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not to forget Girding Potions,” she added.

“I think this means I won the argument,” he replied, “we really do enjoy life to the fullest with magic.”

“Hmm… maybe,” Hermione mused, closing her eyes in bliss as Draco began to grind against her core. “There’s just… ah… one more thing… oh, yes…”

“What’s that?” He asked, his hardened cock pushing against her entrance. 

“I think I… I have to admit… that’s a big one, Malfoy.”

_ Fin. _


End file.
